All the Things I Never Told You
by SapSorrow
Summary: "Your eyes are searching me, probing further than you should and can I even tell you how the heart tightens under that kind of honest scrutiny? Can I tell you how the heart cries brother? Can I tell you how the head aches from hearing the constant howl of the wolf at the door?" Short, angsty Loki ficlets, implied Thorki. T rated for sexual suggestions and language.
1. Can I?

**Can I?**

_Can I tell you?_

_Your eyes are searching me probing further than you should and can I even tell you how the heart tightens under that kind of honest scrutiny? Can I tell you how the heart cries brother? Can I tell you how the head aches from hearing the constant howl of the wolf at the door? The end is always so close, all we can do is run away, hide, disguise, elude – and can I tell you any of this? Can I share the inside of my head with you? Can I actually show you something like that? Is there any picture I could paint you of the non – Euclidean angles of my mind – any picture that you – that I – could understand. Would these crooked angles break you? Would the corners and the shadows frighten you to tears?_

_Can I tell you that they do me?_

_Can I tell you about fear like eyes on you in the dark? Like spiders crawling over inch of the skin and out from every pore until you go mad stopping yourself from brushing them away? If I could make you feel it, make you know what it is to be me – would I wish it on you? _

_Dear gods can I tell you just one thing? Can I tell you how perfect you are to me? Can I tell you what the shadow feels, falling by the side of the light? By _your _light, beloved. Can I compare myself to you for even one moment and not go mad from the dissolution of my self? _

_And can I make something out of two such disparate halves? Is there any chance I can create at all and not destroy? Could you tell me that brother and could I ever ask? _

_Can I answer you one question you would put to me? Can I even hear it as the simple thing you think it is? Do you think I could find words you would comprehend for why I do as I do? Do you think the words exist? And do you really think I know?_

_There is so much I could say to you. So much that would stop you from hating me but do you really think I could take it – your forgiveness, your faith, your hope, your love? Do you think I can bear your continued assumptions of my inner goodness and that it does not squirm like a snake in me that you are so wrong. Can I tell you that if you stripped away my skin that snake would be all there is of me? _

_And can I revoke the past that lies so close to your heart? Can I look back on what I was and not scream for wanting an ideal that you dream of and that I could never really have been?_

_Can I tell you who I was then, who I am now – when I do not even know? And how can we even begin to rebuild when we do not even have that basis to work from? Can _you _tell _me _this? Can you tell me one true secure thing – one word to describe me from which I can start to piece together some kind of a self? Can you tell me that? _

_Can I tell you I still love you as you tell me? Can I tell you all you are to me and all you have ever been, will never stop being, brother, lover, friend. Can I tell you how I have only ever felt my presence in my own skin when you have touched me? Can I tell you you are everything to me? Could anyone ever admit a thing like that? Can I tell you how the very thought shrieks discord and denial screaming like Valkyries through the tangled night sky of my brain? Yes this cuts. This cuts the deepest and the snake drips its venom into the wound. _

_And you look at me with those honest eyes like the sky before the storm I know would come if I uttered a single word that might begin to answer your innocuous, ridiculous question. You gaze down on the havoc I have wrecked and your eyes are full of potential only to forgive –_

"Loki – why?" was all you said.

_One word._

_One word from me and I would put thunder clouds in your eyes to blot out every innocent drop of blue – and could I really do that to you? Could you take the ice out of me and warm it or would it freeze you too? Do you think I could even risk it? _

_Can I say one single word of all I feel to you now?_

"Fuck you" I say, and I turn away.

_x_

**So I'm really bad at rating fics that aren't M! I've T rated this but if I'm wrong in this please someone tell me!**

**This was meant to be a one chapter fic but I have plans for other little jaunts into Loki's brain that might go along with this!**


	2. Turn Left

**More bitter ranting from your friendly neighbourhood Loki. **

**Turn Left**

I have a story for you, here – let me tell you how it goes.

_The Kursed leaves the dungeons taking the stairway to the right. Meanwhile Malakith enters mother's quarters searching for the girl. But mother is ready for him; of course she is – she has always had a strength not to be under estimated. _

_"Stand down creature" she says, honour and dignity side by side in her with wit and lethal ability. Of course the creature does not stand down. No matter – they fight – she wins. By the time the Kursed reaches her quarters she has left with the apparition of the girl. _

_How much further can the story now go? Of all the tales I have ever told this happy yarn is the saddest never to leave my lips._

_With Malekith gone The Kursed is nothing. Mother being still alive she campaigns for my freedom. You join her, with that never – ending hope you have that I am still somehow redeemable. With two such strong forces battling for my salvation I am less able to hold out against your dear adorable hopes. _

_She knows you as she knows me – better than anyone – perhaps even better than we know each other and certainly more honest. She notices you of course – how you sit brooding every night, every night a stranger at your own feast. _She _at least is not foolish enough to imagine it is some mere mortal you are pining for. Neither is she afraid to confront you with the truth in your own head, the truth you hide from – and after all it _is _me you were missing was it not brother? I am the cause of the vast emptiness that walks beside you, a thing so black it is a wonder not everyone sees it. She makes you face up to those feelings that you flee from as only she could. She has always known what we were – what we _are – _to each other and she alone has never judged or turned away. _

_And so between the two of you, you release me, not just from this cage but breaking and entering through every barrier my ever busy mind can erect. Between you you manage – though I am sure I do not make it easy – to bring me back – to bring _us _back – somehow even to something like we were._

_Did mother have this kind of power? Could even she effect so incredible an ending? But of course she did. Of course she could. _

_And in the end when the Allfather dies you and I rule Asgard together, like we always should have done, like we always should have been. We can be what we are with no fear or hiding, content, and always in the background our gracefully aging mother. So we live. Happily ever after as they say. _

That is my story brother, did you care for it? My little tale of what could have been.

What could have been. How it bites into the heart with its many venomous little teeth.

Because it is not this way. Because Loki of Nowhere has to have the last word. Because the capricious imp of my mind had to say something to the beast that would not release me when it released so many others. Do you know why, brother? Because it sensed in me something useless to it – it sensed some fetid sense of goodness and it let me know this with the scorn in its eyes.

Well I had to say _something _to that kind of insult did I not? And how remarkably I did succeed in proving it wrong!

"You might want to take the stairs to the left" was all I said.

It was all I needed to say.

_And could you forgive me this? Could even your foolishness forgive me such as this? _

_CAN YOU FORGIVE ME THIS, BROTHER? _

Because I sure as hel could not.

_x_

**Yes, I took this chapter title from an episode of Dr Who, it seemed curiously fitting.**


	3. Freefall

**Warning: Possible triggers here if you suffer from nyctophobia (fear of the dark) or nihilophobia (fear of nothingness). Possibly fine though since I have both and I wrote the thing!**

**Freefall**

You asked how I survived the fall. Here let me tell you a thing.

I did not die in the blackness as a human should have done – as anyone would have done who was not at least a little immortal. Instead space opened out before me, sucking at me and surrounding me with black, empty nothing.

People think that fear of the dark is fear of the things that could come out of it and upon you unawares. That the fear of the monster under the bed is the fear that it will bite your hand off in the night. It's not. It's the fear that in truth _Nothing _will come at you, _Nothing _is under your bed at all and that _Nothing _is all that you will ever find and all that you will ever be. Fear of the dark is fear that it will never end, not even just that you will never see the sun again but that the sun will, in fact, never rise.

This is what I fell into when I fell from the Bridge. This is the abyss into which you threw me. This is the void that stared into me and in doing so ripped everything out. This was the night that never ended. You say it is ended now and your naivety makes me laugh into the hollowness of my insides.

_Nothing _happened to me when I fell and _Nothing _continued to happen until time ceased to exist. I _existed _for want of a better phrase – in that state fro an eternity of Nothingness until I was cored out and filled with the dark echoing Nothing around me.

And this is why I never even made a sound when I fell. Because the scream you hear in the night is nothing to the terror that only begins when the screaming ends. And that is what I did – continually stop screaming when I had never even begun.

This then is what you seek to cure. Would you help me? _Could _you help nothing to become something? I never had much of a Self to begin with, now I should say I am non – existent.

Then is it a strength or a weakness in me that I fight my Nothingness and try to stamp my mark onto everything I touch, even if that is only to destroy. If I can _be _– in any way – is that not now an achievement? Cannot every impact I make draw a little of that void out of me and, living in the world as I am again now, will not something enter me to replace the gap? And if I hurt you enough could it not be your goodness that fills me?

Because I think I do begin to see the dawn begin to break, though it is not the sun rising over the hills. You always were the day to my night and I did not just live in your shadow I _was _that shadow. There is comfort in this as there is in your breaking through my darkness with your light. Because all men need their shadow or become strange and insubstantial themselves. If I am your shadow then it is possible – just slightly – that you might need me.

You asked how I survived the fall. Here is the short answer brother – I did not.

But if anyone can therefore tell you or tell me who I am that remains – it is you.

You have always been as much a part of me as I am. Now you are the part of me that remains alive.

Can that part call back the rest?

_x_

**I genuinely mean this to be a one shot, but new bits of Loki – speak just keep coming to me in no particular order so here they are being thrown! I apologise for the….no I take it back I don't apologise for the randomness! Welcome to my nightmare!**


	4. Holes

**Warning for canonical major character death (Frigga).**

**Holes**

You said you did not wish to share our grief. But I will share with you, brother. You will hear.

You will hear how it was to be told that the only person who never gave up on you – who never even pretended not to care, as you did – is no longer there. Told curtly and unsympathetically by a faceless guard who did not expect any kind of caring reaction. I was good; I gave him what he wanted, what he expected and I did not react, did not even _care _until he left. And I was so _polite _brother, you would have been proud.

No, you probably wouldn't.

Let me tell you how I screamed behind the frozen mask I made my face. Did you hear me brother? Did you hear your shadow scream inside your head? They leave a hole in your heart don't they, the dead? Whoever they are. Did you feel the hole in mine? Could you ever see into that abyss? Would you even have looked? And when you did not was it out of hate or fear or did you just not care as much as you told yourself you did?

Did you have any idea of how cruel you were? On the one hand yes, you acknowledged I did grieve. I suppose you thought _that _was more than I deserved. I suppose you prided yourself as you always did on knowing me better than anyone else. At least anyone else _now. _But to not answer my one simple question – to leave me not knowing if she had suffered – that was depth to which not even I could have sunk.

And _you. _You shared in the passing, in the journey to the stars. You saw the whole beauty of death from your lofty vantage point, saw her return to the water, to the skies in flame and light while I saw

nothing.

You saw the lie this time. You all saw what you wanted to come next. After death. You consoled yourself with it while I saw what really happened from my room in which the passing went unmarked except in blood in silent screaming. You dwelt in the wishes of others while I sat with bleeding feet, alone with only the memory of her voice in my ears.

How selfish grief is. How dull. For while we remember life all that plagues us most is that they are no longer there. That they will never look at us again or comfort us with their physical presence. That they are inexplicably gone – and it is always inexplicable – and can never be touched nor seen again though this does not seem real and every new minute brings the expectation of seeing them as though they were never again. Waking up to find they live in the few moments before you remember they do not, only to have those few moments stab you in the heart you thought you lost. How callous is time that in the end we simply move on and something can come to fill the hole in the heart that at the time you thought nothing could mend.

Yes I would share my grief brother. For only in the sharing can we diminish the loss and we are all selfish in that we wish to. Only when we have, enough times, re- uttered _do you remember when she – _do the memories cease to cause such bittersweet jabs at the heart and the recollections that should be comforting are crueller and more taunting than the immediate grief. There is a time when you feel it will never be otherwise. That the heart will remain this heavy until it sinks through the floor. The eyes ache and the head is hollow and stuffed with dead leaves.

Whether this should diminish or not it does.

In the end me will share so closely that you too will sit alone in this cell, wishing you could comfort yourself with memories of the beloved departed and instead able only to wish that they were still here.

_x_

**I had a small death in the family. Thence came this fic. Sorry for the sad. :-(**


End file.
